For those of you who always wonderd what he really says after'Looked down into the house of Mary'She lived on the curve of the road,in an old, tar-paper shackOn the south side of the town,on the wrong side of the tracksSometimes on the way into town we'd say:"Mama, can we stop and give her a ride?"Sometimes we did,but her hands flew from her sideWild eyed, crazy MaryDown a long dirt road, past the Parson's placeThat old blue car we used to raceLittle country storewith a sign tacked to the sideSaid 'No L-O-I-T-E-R-I-N-G Allowed'Underneath that signalways congregated quite a crowdTake a bottle, drink it down, pass it aroundTake a bottle, drink it down, pass it aroundTake a bottle, drink it down, pass it aroundOne night thunder cracked,mercy backed outside her window sillDreamed I was flying high above the trees,over the hillsLooked down into the house of Marybare bulb hung, newspaper-covered walls,and Mary rising above it allNext morning on the way into townSaw some skid marks and followed them aroundOver the curve, through the fields,into the house of MaryThat what you fear the most,could meet you halfwayThat what you fear the most,could meet you halfwayTake a bottle, drink it down, pass it aroundTake a bottle, drink it down, pass it aroundTake a bottle, drink it down, pass it around